Thorns
by Rainbow-Velociraptor
Summary: It was a long battle. Gunshots popped in the air and bullets whizzed every which way. He and his family were able to push them back, but at a price. He had lost Uncle, and little did he know, he was about to lose his father as well.


**Title:** Thorns  
**Rating:** T  
**Genre:** Western/Tragedy  
**Warnings:** Violence

**Inspiration: **  
_"World So Cold" _by_ 12 Stones_  
A confession on red-dead-confessions on Tumblr.

**Summary:** It was a long battle. Gunshots popped in the air and bullets whizzed every which way. He and his family were able to push them back, but at a price. He had lost Uncle, and little did he know, he was about to lose his father as well.

**Author's Note:** I wrote RDR fanfiction. I'm sorry.

* * *

**Thorns**

* * *

It had been three years since that one faithful summer day. He had woken up early to help his father with the daily chores, and then ate breakfast with his family. It was the afternoon when it had began.

The U.S. Army had come for his father. He didn't understand. His father had done everything he was made to do. But it wasn't enough. They had Uncle Bill and Uncle Dutch's heads, and now they wanted John's.

It was a long battle. Gunshots popped in the air and bullets whizzed every which way. He and his family were able to push them back, but at a price. He had lost Uncle, and little did he know, he was about to lose his father as well.

They ran to the barn for cover. Inside, his father had told him to hop on Lucy, his favorite horse. He helped his mother up, and was told to ride as fast as he could and as far as he could with his mother.

_"__But Pa, what about you?"_

_"__I'll catch up."_

He knew what that meant. His mother did as well. His mother and father shared one last kiss before his father slapped the horse's hind. It jumped a bit, then began to gallop out of the barn.

He didn't know what happened after that, but he imagined it. His father would stand behind the farm doors, pushing them open slightly. Outside, a dozen or two men stood outside, their guns fixed on him.

His father sighed. He knew he was going to die today. If he didn't, he knew they wouldn't stop. It was his time.

Today was John Marston's last stand.

He took a deep breath, then slowly pushed the doors open. A deathly silence between him and the U.S. army was presented.

As quick as a bullet, he pulled out his cattleman revolver, and shot six of them. Then, a bombardment of ammo hit him in places he had never been hit before.

The fire ceased. He still stood, breathing harshly as blood pooled in his lungs. He dropped to his knees, and before collapsing, he sent the dirtiest glare to Edgar Ross.

Then, he fell. Dead.

Unfazed, Ross pulled up a cigar and lit it up. He called the others to retreat. They're work was done.

"Jack! Did you hear that? We have to go back for Pa!"

His mother was right. He turned quickly and raced back to Beecher's Hope. When they arrived, it was too late. His mother dropped to her knees, clutching her husband's bloody clothing tightly in her fists.

Jack could do nothing but stand there. He had no words to say. Nothing would make his father come back.

They stood on the hill overlooking the ranch. He and his mother stood by his father's grave. His mother's tears began again as he buried her face into his shoulder.

He held his mother tightly, saying nothing. He dared not let the tears fall. He needed to be strong, for his mother, for himself, _for his father._

He had to.

* * *

The year is 1914, and Jack Marston is now nineteen-years of age. He stood on the hill overlooking his home, standing by the grave of not only his father, but now his mother.

He turned away and pulled on his hat. He rode on his horse to Blackwater, asking for a man that wasn't there. He traveled over New Austin to his next destination, but he was not there either. He rode to Mexico, where he found him by the river.

_"__Ross? Mr. Edgar Ross?"_

_"__Yes, what is it?"_

Jack could hear the bitterness in his voice.

_"__My name is Jack Marston. You killed my father."_

_"__Marston? Ah yes, you're John's boy. What do you want?"_

_"__I've come avenge my father."_

Ross went silent before turning to look at the young man.

_"__Oh really? You're just like your father."_

Jack said nothing._"Alright, let's see what you've got, boy." _

They stood apart, their hands hovering their pistols. At draw, Jack pulled out his father's cattleman revolver, and shot the gun out of Ross's hands.

Ross shouted in pain, his hand bleeding. He glared at the boy, just the way his father had glared at Ross.

"I'm not my father."

Jack pushed his gun into his hostler, then walked away.


End file.
